


To Catch a Thief - And Then What?

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, M/M, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg expects it to be one of The Silver Fox's simplest jobs - swiping the late Lady Holmes' jewels from her son's townhouse - after all, he's just a minor civil servant, right?</p><p>Mycroft is used to people breaking into his house - but usually they're trying to kill him, not rob him. This might be entertaining...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written (in a very short time frame and without beta - apologies) for the Badboy!Rebel Alternative Universe fic challenge on the fuckyeahmystradefanfic Tumblr.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure which of them is the bad boy in this - probaby both!

Greg held his breath... and slowly released it when the little red light blinked out. He pushed the  window open, slid under it into the darkened building and closed it noiselessly behind him.  
  
That had been far too close for comfort.  
  
He hadn't expected anything like this level of security on the home of a minor government official, even one from an ancient titled family like the Holmes. There must be something a lot more valuable than Lady Holmes' jewels in here - but what? Had her son invested in some art?  
  
Not that it mattered. Even if Holmes had the bloody Mona Lisa in his downstairs loo, Greg knew better than to take anything he couldn't sell - and more importantly, couldn't carry.  
  
As planned he was in the master bedroom. He slid into the shadows beside the huge four-poster bed that dominated the room while he slowed his breathing and heart rate.  
  
Perhaps he should just quit now. It would be irritating as hell to leave empty-handed but that was nothing when weighed against the risk of running into some more of Holmes' unexpected home protection measures...  
  
But then again, the jewels were in this room... and so was he...  
  
 _Fuck it._  
  
He padded over the rich carpeting to the far side of the room and checked the dressing table for any more security devices. Nothing. He crouched in front of it and set about expertly picking the lock on the main drawer.  
  
The drawer slid open to reveal the late Lady Holmes' collection, including her famed emerald necklace in all its sparkling beauty.  
  
"Hello, gorgeous..." Greg whispered to himself.  
  
"And hello to you too."  
  
Greg froze at the touch of cold metal to his throat. There was someone standing behind him holding a blade directly under his chin. How the _fuck_ had they crept up on him like that?  
  
Greg swallowed and felt his stubble gently scraping against the razor-sharp edge. He looked up, trying to make out his captor in the mirror above the table. The man behind him was slightly taller and thinner than Greg, wearing a very expensive suit that showed his figure off to perfection;  Holmes himself presumably. His stern features and piercing eyes would have made Greg feel like he'd been caught red-handed even if they'd only met in the street. Just the kind of rich, smug, superior bastard Greg loved to steal from - and just the kind he'd have put last on the list of "people to get caught by".  
  
For the icing on the cake, Holmes wasn't threatening him with _any_ old weapon.  
  
"Nice dirk. 18th century naval?" Greg asked - carefully.  
  
"Thank you - and yes. It belonged to an ancestor who served under Nelson. Please do not attempt to move."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it. I've never been fond of close shaves."  
  
"Close the drawer, please," Holmes ordered.  
  
Greg reached out with both hands until his fingertips found the smooth wood of the drawer front. He gently pushed it forward until it slid into place.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
The blade eased away from Greg's throat but before he could react there was a sharp stinging jab into the back of his neck.  
  
"Fuck! What was that? Did you.. did... you..." _Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit! No!_  
  
Greg fought hard against the thick blanket that seemed to have suddenly wrapped itself around both his body and his brain but he was already out of it when he slumped over onto the floor a moment later...  
  


* * *

  
Mycroft placed the dirk carefully on the polished surface of the dresser before he transferred the small needle to his other hand and retrieved the plastic cap he'd thumbed off it into his pocket moments earlier. He put the cap on the needle and tossed it into a nearby bin.  
  
He calculated he had at least fifteen minutes based on a very conservative estimate of the intruder's weight and build.  
  
And what of his intruder?  
  
He rolled the man over onto his back.  
  
Apparently a simple thief instead of the assassin he'd expected. Although hardly simple if he'd managed to make it this far and judging by the quality of his equipment and tight-fitting clothes. Very intriguing - and very, very good-looking, which was what had ensured Mycroft had drugged him instead of just killing him outright.  
  
The dagger went back into its sheath. Mycroft placed it on the nearest bedside table. If he still ended up killing the man it certainly wouldn't be in such a messy manner but knives were always entertainingly threatening.  
  
Mycroft smiled as he looked at the large bed.  
  
Well, why not? It had been a long time since he had had anything even _remotely_ resembling fun...  
  


* * *

  
Greg's relief at waking up and being _not dead, thank you God_ lasted for approximately two seconds.  
  
That was how long his brain took to stop doing cartwheels of joy and point out he was spread-eagled on the four-poster bed he'd hidden beside earlier - and he couldn't move. Not because of any leftover effects of the drug but because he was secured there by thick leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles and some very strong looking chains.  
  
His brain then also helpfully pointed out that if Holmes was the kind of man who just happened to have restraints of this quality sitting by his bedside, then he was probably not the kind of man whose bed you wanted to be strapped to.  
  
Greg told his brain to shut the fuck up and start thinking of a way out - which was going to be tricky. His hands were folded over into fists inside thick leather mittens. Even if they had been free he could see the way the locks were positioned on the cuffs would make it nigh impossible for him to get at them.  
  
"Ah, you're awake. Excellent." Holmes was sitting in a high-backed chair against the far wall. He closed the laptop he had been looking at and strolled over to the bottom of the bed.  
  
Greg glared at him between his feet - his _bare_ feet, he now noticed. He was down to just his trousers.  
  
"You're not just a minor civil servant, are you?"  
  
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "And what brings you to that conclusion?"  
  
"The security - far too high level for the stuff in this house, so it's for your work, not your things. Information, papers, that kind of valuable, not money. You do something secret and you bring your work home with you."  
  
"Technically correct. The security is there to protect one of the government's most powerful data repositories."  
  
Greg frowned doubtfully as he glanced past Homes to the small laptop on the distant side-table.  
  
"No, no." Holmes chuckled. "This one." He tapped his forehead.  
  
"You?"  
  
"Me. So, as I said, you are correct - I do bring my work home with me. It's rather unavoidable."  
  
"Shit." Greg closed his eyes. "Thanks for telling me. Now I _know_ I'm dead."  
  
"Let's not jump to conclusions shall we, Lestrade?"  
  
Greg caught himself on the H of _How...?_ but Holmes seemed to have heard it anyway.  
  
"Grégoire Henri Lestrade, place and date of birth unknown - and congratulations on that by the way, not many succeed in concealing such things from me - also known rather fancifully as 'The Silver Fox', wanted in twelve countries--"  
  
"Eleven."  
  
"Twelve - the Belize police issued a warrant this morning."  
  
"Never been there."  
  
Holmes just smiled and continued, "--on charges all relating to crimes of theft, predominantly of very expensive jewelery, though in one case of a..." Holmes paused as if he were turning a page while reading. "Oh yes, a miniature schnauzer."  
  
"That dog was being neglected. Suarez only kept it to spite his ex-wife. I left it with a much better family."  
  
"Your concern for animal welfare is truly admirable."  
  
"But not enough to stop you dropping me into the Thames in lead boots, I bet."  
  
"As I said, let's not be hasty." Holmes walked around the side of the bed and sat down. "After all, I so rarely receive visitors at home."  
  
He reached out and slid his hand across Lestrade's chest.  
  
"Especially not such handsome ones, who are not likely to be misssed..."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Since so many people kindly asked for a little more - and I wanted to write _something_ to try and get my writing muscles a little exercise. I've added a Warning tag since it's _deeply_ dub-con.)
> 
> Also [deliriumoverdelusion](http://deliriumoverdelusion.tumblr.com/post/35384624396/sketch-from-wastingyourgums-to-catch-a-thief) drew me this _fantastic_ art for Chapter 1. Please go rave about it on their tumblr!

Lestrade sucked in a shocked breath as Mycroft's fingers swept over his skin. His stomach stretched taut and his chest and arm muscles flexed and shifted as he instinctively pulled against his restraints; the heavy wood of the four poster bed groaned in protest.

Mycroft felt a delicious thrill run through him as the pectoral under his fingertips tightened. Oh _yes_...

"You're wrong if you think no-one knows I'm here," Lestrade spat.

"Then I apologise for my turn of phrase. You may indeed be missed. However I think we can both agree that no-one is coming to get you - at least not in the foreseeable future."

Lestrade chose not to answer that - which was confirmation in itself. He settled for a defiant glare.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Lestrade." Mycroft twirled some of Lestrade's dark chest hair around the tip of his index finger. "I can call the police and you can spend the rest of your life behind bars..."

"And let them find me like this?" Lestrade nodded down at his semi-clothed state.

Mycroft tilted his head and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Naturally I would knock you out again and redress you first."

"Naturally." Lestrade returned the unamused smirk. "What's choice number two?"

"I don't call the police and in the morning you are free to go."

Lestrade's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "...And what happens between now and then?"

Mycroft looked him straight in the eye. "Anything I like."

Lestrade frowned as he considered this for a moment. "When you say 'anything'..."

"I mean _anything_. It may help to clarify however, that I wouldn't dream of causing any permanent physical harm to such an attractive body as yours."

"I only have your word for that though... and you could change your mind any time."

"My word, Lestrade, carries considerable weight and I _never_ give it lightly."

"But you're giving it now?"

"Yes. You have my word if you submit to me until dawn, I will release you without having caused you any permanent harm and since I won't have lost anything, there will be no need to call the police."

Lestrade's dark eyes flicked over Mycroft's face as he weighed his options.

Mycroft knew the thief would be unable to find any hint of his thoughts written there.

"Are you going to fuck me?"

Then again... "Ha!" Mycroft barked with genuine amusement. "How delightfully direct of you! I must admit - I've been considering it almost since the moment I first saw your rear view." He ran his fingertip down the trail of hair leading from Lestrade's stomach into the waistband of his trousers. "I haven't fully decided yet - but probably, yes." He leaned over so his face was mere inches from Lestrade's, but still safely out of head-butting range. "I am definitely going to enjoy that beautiful mouth of yours."

Lestrade's eyes went wide and he let his head fall back onto the bed with a soft thump. "Bon Dieu."

"So, am I ringing my good friends at New Scotland Yard and telling them I think I may have captured Le Renard Argenté or...?"

Lestrade huffed out a resigned laugh. "I'm fucked either way, why not risk it?"

"I take you're accepting the second option then?"

"Yes I am... God help me."

" _Excellent_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and asked for more. Sorry it took so long!

Mycroft stood up and turned to face the bed.

"First things first; I'm going to remove your trousers."

Lestrade's eyes widened but he kept his mouth shut.

"I'm going to release your legs. I shall not hesitate to restrain you again if I detect any hint of an attempt to escape," Mycroft continued. "I can just as easily cut your clothes from you but I'm assuming you would rather I leave them intact for you to depart in?"

Lestrade cleared his throat and swallowed before answering in a husky voice, "Yeah - and I like these trousers. It's OK. I get the message - no funny business. Just lie here like a good boy and let you strip me naked."

"Exactly." Mycroft allowed himself a small smile.

Lestrade fixed his eyes on the canopy above the bed. "Go on then."

Mycroft unlocked the thick cuffs around Lestrade's ankles, keeping alert for any sudden moves from his captive. There were none.

Once Lestrade's legs were free, Mycroft tucked his fingers inside the waistband of Lestrade's close-fitting trousers on either side of his waist.

Lestrade drew in a shuddering breath but stayed perfectly motionless, his face impassive, eyes still fixed on a point above Mycroft's head.

"Lift your hips, please."

Lestrade did as he was asked, pushing from his heels and shoulder-blades and thrusting his pelvis up towards Mycroft's face.

Mycroft peeled the trousers and underpants down off Lestrade's legs in one swift motion, before tossing them to one side. He quickly moved to reattach the ankle cuffs.

Lestrade remained still.

Mycroft was almost disappointed at the lack of misbehaviour - but there would be plenty more opportunities to provoke some.

Once he was happy the cuffs were secured again, Mycroft took a minute to let his gaze drift upwards from Lestrade's feet, taking in the full view now on offer.

Lestrade's calves and thighs were every bit as toned as his chest and arms and covered in the same perfect amount of dark hair; enough to emphasise his masculinity but not so much as to be off putting. He had a rich tan that dimmed only slightly at a point midway up his thighs suggesting most of his sunbathing had been done whilst wearing nothing at all. Mycroft looked forward to seeing the rear view to confirm that theory.

Mycroft lifted his eyes further still - and was in no way disappointed. Lestrade's cock was generously proportioned and lay plump and enticing, flopped over onto his left thigh.

Surely he must be doing something right for fate to have delivered such a gorgeous specimen into his hands?

Lestrade's cheeks flushed as Mycroft continued his long, slow appraisal. "Yeah, alright. You never seen a bloke naked before?"

"Several, I assure you. None I have found so appealing though."

Lestrade scoffed. "You must've been shagging some right ugly blokes then."

Mycroft blinked in surprise and directed his attention to Lestrade's face. No, he didn't appear to be joking. Interesting. He appeared to be completely oblivious to his level of attractiveness. Either that or he had self-esteem issues that would prove a useful manipulation tool.

"Do you have any medical conditions I should be aware of?" Mycroft asked.

"Am I clean, you mean? Yeah, if you think you can take my word for it."

"I was thinking more of a possible heart condition, asthma…" He eyed Lestrade's cock. "Erectile dysfunction…"

"Funnily enough there are other reasons for me not getting hard right now. Fear's not a great aphrodisiac."

"I gave you my word you would leave here with no injuries. If you permit yourself to trust me just a little I see no reason this can't be a pleasurable experience for us both." Mycroft slipped the fingertips of his right hand under and around Lestrade's cock, gently taking it in his hand.

The tension that produced in Lestrade's thighs was _delightful_.

He rubbed his thumb slowly up and down the length, enjoying the velvety feel of the skin. Despite Lestrade's protestations his cock quickly started filling out, lengthening and thickening at an impressive rate.

"You're clearly no stranger to a masculine touch. How long has it been since you've been with another man?" Mycroft asked.

"You're only getting my body till dawn, Holmes," Lestrade snapped. "My private life stays my own. We're not going to be having breakfast as chums. You get to fuck me and that's it."

"Understood. Well, since you're so keen to get on with it, we'll dispense with small talk and move right along to the main event, shall we?"

Mycroft patted Lestrade's thigh and stood up again. He went to the bedside table, opened a drawer and selected an appropriately sized silicone ring. He fitted it over Lestrade's cock, making sure it was snugly fitted at the base, before planting a small kiss on the tip.

Lestrade's whole body shuddered.

"As I said, I fully intend for you to enjoy yourself - but your pleasure will be secondary to mine and on my terms and schedule." Mycroft started disrobing, folding his clothes neatly onto a chair but keeping one eye on his captive. A light flush had spread across Lestrade's face and chest giving away his arousal - whether at the situation or Mycroft or possibly both, Mycroft couldn't tell, though he hoped at least some of it was down to the effort he put in to keep himself in shape.

By the time he'd finished Lestrade was fully erect and Mycroft was well on the way to joining him in that state. He walked slowly back to the bed, climbed on and straddled Lestrade's body, gazing down at him from all fours.

"Don't look so nervous, Lestrade. You are an extremely attractive man and I would no more damage you than any one of the other works of art in this house. I'm not a sadist - I just enjoy being in charge…"

He dipped his head and kissed Lestrade's neck, revelling in the way the tendons tightened under his lips as Lestrade tensed and tipped his head back in a clear gesture of submission, allowing him greater access.

Mycroft gently tugged at Lestrade's earlobe with his teeth. "I'm starting to suspect you enjoy it too..."


	4. Chapter 4

Greg closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control.

If he showed any signs of enjoying this, Holmes would be unbearably smug about it and Greg would be buggered if that was going to happen.

OK, poor choice of words; he was going to be buggered regardless.

And he might not have any choice in the matter - he was already fighting a losing battle against his own preferences.

It was coercion no matter what way you looked at it but somehow Holmes had managed to crawl right into Greg's libido, find all the buttons marked YES! and press each and every bloody one of them.

Posh Bastard with an air of superiority - check  
Lean, fit body - check  
Attractive cock - check  
Luscious arse - check  
Him totally in control and Greg totally helpless - check, check and triple check

And now Holmes was nuzzling - no other word for it - at that spot just behind and below his ear; the one that would have made his knees go weak if he was standing up and not spread out like Christmas dinner on this infernal bed.

Greg sucked in a quick breath and had to bite back another groan. Holmes even _smelled_ good as well - how unfair was that!

"Coming round to the idea this might actually not be a bad thing?" Holmes murmured.

"You might get my body to respond but I am still here under duress," Greg replied through gritted teeth.

"Noted. Perhaps we can take that as read and get on with the business of having a good time?"

"You really want me to give in, don't you?"

"I doubt you'd believe me but it is actually more enjoyable for me to have a willing… participant than a resistant one."

Greg wondered what other words Holmes had considered before plumping for that one. Victim? Plaything?

"I refuse to give you the satisfaction."

"Pity - but I'll take it anyway and once that's done, I plan on giving you plenty in return. I like to think I can be generous in that way."

Holmes shifted his weight over onto his left arm and skimmed the fingers of his right hand down Greg's chest.

Greg's nipples were already rock hard and the most glancing touch of Holmes's fingers against one of them made him groan and thrust his hips up involuntarily.

"You weren't mistaken when you said I'd get your body to respond," Holmes murmured.

Greg strained against his bindings but he might as well have been trying to pull an ocean liner for all the effect he had on the chains. He settled for opening his eyes, glaring at Holmes and spitting out, "Fuck you."

Holmes just smiled. "Exactly what I had in mind. I'm glad I had the foresight to make some preparation while I was waiting for you to wake. Better than prolonging the agony now."

Greg was confused for a moment until Holmes sat upright again, twisted his body round and reached behind himself. He closed his eyes and, with a look that was half pleasure and half concentration, he slowly drew a small plug from his arse which he casually lobbed on to the floor beside the bed.

Greg followed its trajectory with wide eyes. "Bloody hell. You've had that in the whole time?"

"Indeed. It would have remained merely an interesting lesson in self control had you decided against this option."

OK, so maybe he wasn't the one getting buggered, not yet anyway. Holmes was going to use him like a living, breathing, glorified sex toy.

Greg _really_ wished he didn't find that thought such a massive turn on...

He inhaled sharply as Holmes took a firm grip of Greg's cock and lined himself up. It was a good job Holmes had fitted that cock ring on him or he may have embarrassed himself far too quickly. As things stood though it was going to be torture of the worst and best kind.

Greg closed his eyes, braced himself and waited for the tantalising feel of friction and warmth…

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen so he opened his eyes again.

Holmes was looking down at him with his mouth open as if struggling to speak.

"What is it? Are you alright?" Greg asked him. Christ - what if Holmes was having a heart attack or a stroke? He'd be stuck here until someone found them!

Holmes remained motionless. "I - I find I would much rather I had your consent," he finally stammered.

"I already agreed to your terms."

"Not quite the same thing."

"Are you seriously saying that if I say no _now_ you'll stop and let me go?" Greg asked incredulously.

Holmes's gaze flicked up from Greg's face to a spot on the wall above his head. His eyes blinked rapidly. After a few moments his shoulders relaxed and his eyes dropped again to Greg's chest.

"Yes."

"What?"

"I apologise. I was… mistaken in my estimation of myself."

"Not quite as ruthless as you think you are?"

Holmes met his eyes again and gave him another thin-lipped smile. "Oh no, when the occasion calls for it I am entirely ruthless, Lestrade. There is little I am not prepared to do for Queen and country…"

Looking at his eyes, Greg had absolutely no doubt of that.

"...but it appears I am not entirely heartless nor am I entirely selfish. I would be the sole beneficiary in this scenario and I find the reward would not justify the cost."

"Don't want it on your conscience?"

"I was thinking more of the cost to you, but that also." He swung his leg back over Lestrade's body and stepped off onto the floor. "I will release you and you will be free to go - though without my mother's jewel's, if you don't mind - and... again, you have my apologies."

He released the cuff around Greg's closest wrist and slid his hand free of the mitten then moved towards the cuff around Greg's ankle on the same side.

"I didn't actually say no yet."

They both went stock still. Greg wasn't sure who was more surprised by his statement - Holmes or himself.

"I… I mean I…"

Holmes arched an eyebrow at him - which sealed the deal. Greg could never resist a haughty eyebrow.

"Oh… _fuck_. Could we maybe try this again?" Greg extended his newly freed hand towards Holmes. "Hello. I'm Greg Lestrade, burglar. I like football, Indian food and being tied up."

Holmes took his hand and this time the smile was much more genuine if a tad bemused. "Mycroft Holmes, minor government official. I like running, Japanese cuisine... and men who enjoy being tied up."

"And lying about your job - 'minor official', my arse," Greg scoffed. "I might as well call myself a 'jewellery redistributor'!"

"I assure you my official job title is--"

"Nothing at all to do with what you actually do - but to be honest I really don't care. Less I know the better probably. Am I right?"

"You are," Holmes conceded.

"Look, this is a totally fucked up situation but I'll be honest with you, Holmes; you're exactly the type of bloke I find attractive. If you'd like to… renegotiate our deal so it's a little more equal…"

"A partnership rather than hostile takeover?"

"Exactly! You don't worry about what I do for a living, I definitely don't spare a thought for whatever it is you do and we just... enjoy each other's company without anybody blackmailing anybody else. Then, same as before, I leave here in the morning without your jewels but hanging on to mine."

"You'd be willing to trust me despite my earlier behaviour?"

"Yeah. Well… up to a point."

"So should I...?" Holmes gestured to the empty leather cuff now lying on the bed.

"Yeah, but is there any way you can take the mittens off? They're making my hands really sweaty."

"Of course. They're detachable." Holmes reached for the cuff and demonstrated. He then reached over Greg to undo the other cuff and removed the mitten from that as well once Greg's hand was free.

"Ta."

"That should also allow you to make any necessary hand signals later - when your mouth is full," Holmes told him.

Greg's cock throbbed painfully. How did this guy know _just_ what to say?

Holmes picked up the nearest cuff and took hold of Greg's wrist. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Well, no, not one hundred percent - but I guess that's part of the thrill, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that someone in your line of work is not averse to a little risk."

"Not talking about the day jobs, remember?"

"Agreed." Holmes nodded as he finished resecuring Greg's wrists. "Now…" He stepped back to check all was as it was before - with the minor alteration of the mittens. "Where were we?"

He climbed back onto the bed to straddle Greg.

"Ah, yes. You were about to beg to be allowed to fuck me..."


End file.
